Please cite as: Anne Curry, ‘France, England and the Political Climate, 1400-1415’, in The Online Froissart, ed. by Peter Ainsworth and Godfried Croenen, v. 1.5 (Sheffield: HRIOnline, 2013), http://www.dhi.ac.uk/onlinefroissart/apparatus.jsp?type=intros&intro=f.intros.AC-PoliticalClimate, first published in v. 1.0 (2010).
In the late summer of 1415 Henry V invaded France with an army of around 12,000 men. By 22 September the port of Harfleur, ‘the key to France’1, had fallen to him after a six-week siege. Just over a month later, on 25 October, Henry V defeated the French royal army in battle at Agincourt. His victory is now almost six centuries distant, yet still it occupies an important place in popular perceptions. We have Shakespeare to thank for this, but it is also notable just how celebrated Agincourt was even at the time, both in France and England. This is revealed through the many chronicle accounts of the battle, as well as the literary works which it stimulated over the next fifty years.
Froissart, of course, did not live to see the battle. Nor did he live through the years leading up to it, years in which the internal and external fortunes of both England and France fluctuated dramatically. Would that he had survived for longer, since the prelude to Agincourt as well as the battle itself would surely have interested and stimulated him just as much, if not more, than the fourteenth-century phase of the Hundred Years’ War. Yet his legacy lingered on, influencing considerably the accounts of the fifteenth-century phase which essentially began with Henry V’s invasion of 1415. This is most marked in the writings of the Burgundian chroniclers, Enguerrand de Monstrelet, Jean de Wavrin and Jean le Fèvre, whose accounts of the period form the basis of many subsequent historical narratives. All outline in their prologues an intention to record the deeds of the valorous as both a commemoration and an example to be followed, sentiments which permeate the whole of Froissart’s Chroniques. For Monstrelet, the link to the past master is even more explicit. At the beginning of his work, Monstrelet writes as follows:
"This present chronicle will begin at Easter in the year of grace 1400 in which year ends the last volume produced in his lifetime by the prudent and renowned historian Jean Jean Froissart, native of Valenciennes in Hainault, whose reputation will last for a long time to come because of his noble works"2.
The exact date and location of Froissart’s death are not known. Some have speculated that he died as late as 1410 but it is now thought more likely that the end came around 1404. But although he lived through the first years of the fifteenth century, he did not take his Chroniques beyond the early months of 1400. That said, they provide us with a useful point of entry into the dramatic years leading up to 1415. Even more usefully, they cover both England and France, and establish the two salient themes which were to dominate the first decade and a half of the new century. For France, the theme was the mental illness of the king, Charles VI, which had first appeared in 1392. As Froissart tells us in his penultimate chapter ‘the French king was now [i.e in early 1400] in a very bad state and much weakened in his constitution for there had not been found any physician who could conquer his disorder’3. For England, it was the usurpation of Richard II’s throne by his cousin, Henry Bolingbroke, the future Henry IV, father of the Henry V who invaded France in 1415. Froissart includes a substantial narrative of this change of dynasty, culminating in a mention, again in the penultimate chapter of his Chroniques, of Richard’s death (or, more precisely, murder) in mid-February 14004.
To put things in a nutshell, the political climate of each kingdom and the relations between them in the first decade and a half of the fifteenth century were shaped by two major issues: in England, the insecure position of the recently established Lancastrian dynasty (Henry IV (1399-1413) and Henry V (1413-22)), and, in France, the growing incapacity of Charles VI, who was still king at the time Henry V invaded in 1415. The following discussion summarises Anglo-French relations in the last years of Froissart’s narrative, before looking at England and then France in the first decade of the fifteenth century. It concludes with a consideration of the five years leading up to Agincourt.
Froissart had always been fascinated by the actions and personalities of the powerful. He was also fascinated by change, or by what he might, like Christine de Pizan, have termed ‘the mutation of fortune’ (la mutation de fortune). Charles VI and Richard II were ideal subjects for him in both contexts. Both had acceded as minors, Charles in 1380 aged 11 and Richard in 1377 aged 10. In the company of his then patron, Wenceslas of Brabant, Froissart had attended Charles VI’s coronation at Rheims in 1380. He may also have seen the king in 1386 when both chronicler and monarch visited Sluys to see the French fleet preparing for an invasion of England, the latest action in the Anglo-French hostilities which had occupied so much of the Chroniques and indeed the whole of Froissart’s life, since it is thought that Froissart was born in 1337. That was the very year in which Philip VI had confiscated the French lands of the English king Edward III, thereby beginning what we now know as the Hundred Years’ War. War between England and France was nothing new. From the late twelfth century onwards, French kings exploited the fact that English kings held their French lands as vassals of the French crown. By such means they had conquered Normandy, Anjou, Maine and Poitou, but Aquitaine remained with the English. The extent of English territory as well as its conditions of tenure remained burning issues into the fourteenth century. From the death of Charles IV in 1328 onwards there was an additional dynastic complication, since Edward III could claim that his title to the French throne, as nephew of Charles, was superior to that of Philip VI, as cousin. In 1340 Edward formally assumed the title ‘king of France’ in retaliation for Philip VI’s seizure of his lands.
Froissart lived through all of this and was much influenced by it. Having provided a splendid narrative of the wars of the 1340s and 50s, he had recounted the peace of Brétigny of 1360 which gave Edward substantial lands in France in full sovereignty, in return for renouncing the French royal claim. By 1369, however, the English and French were once more at war, providing Froissart with more grist to his mill. At the death of Edward III, his grandson Richard II immediately took up his grandfather’s claim to France, even though by this time the English had lost most of the lands they had gained by the treaty of 1360. The English suffered further reverses, but the French never succeeded in defeating them completely. A stalemate had been reached. Only in the 1390s did there seem to be light at the end of the tunnel. The two sides were still not able to come to a full peace - the English were no more willing to give up their claim to the throne than the French were to restore English lands - but they did agree in 1395 to a thirty-year truce which was intended to last until 1426, and to the marriage of Richard to Charles’s six-year-old daughter, Isabella. That this was intended as a major breakthrough is confirmed by the specially arranged ceremonies which followed in October 1396, at some of which Froissart, based in St Omer, may have been present. On 27 October, in a field between Calais and Ardres, as he tells us, ‘the two kings met bareheaded and having saluted, took each other by the hand’5. This was the first meeting of English and French kings on equal terms since before the Hundred Years’ War started. On the next day a great banquet was attended by both kings, after which Charles led in Isabella, and handed her over to her bridegroom, who married her in Calais and took her back to England as his queen.
As Froissart tells us, the Anglo-French truce of 1395 had made it possible for him to visit England, a country of which he had happy memories from his previous sojourn at the court of Edward III and Queen Philippa. ‘I was anxious, therefore, to visit that country for it ran in my imagination that if I once again saw it, I should live the longer. For twenty-seven years past I had intentions of gong thither and if I should not meet with the lords whom I had left there, I should at least see their heirs, who would likewise be of great service to me in the verification of the many histories I have related of them’6.
He was particularly keen to see King Richard, whom, as he reminisces, he ‘had not seen since the time of his christening in the cathedral church of Bordeaux’. The Chroniques contain a lengthy narrative of Froissart’s time in England from July to October 1395, fascinating for its account of continuing Anglo-French discussions. The high point for Froissart was an audience with the king himself on 25 July at Eltham, but he also tells us of his meetings with the leading nobles of the realm. He makes it clear that all was not well in the kingdom, noting particularly the tension between the king’s uncles, John of Gaunt, duke of Lancaster, Edmund of Langley, duke of York and Thomas of Woodstock, duke of Gloucester. Not surprisingly, therefore, Froissart devoted much space to English affairs in the remaining sections of his Chroniques until they end in the early months of 1400. First he tells us of the king’s growing hatred of Gloucester, leading to the latter’s arrest and murder. Then he explains the king’s decision in 1398 to exile Lancaster’s heir, Henry Bolingbroke, in the wake of a duel with the duke of Norfolk; the chronicler goes on to relate how Richard deprived Bolingbroke of his inheritance upon the death of his father in February 1399. This leads into an account of Bolingbroke’s invasion and Richard’s capture, and of the subsequent change of dynasty and Richard’s death.
Richard, Froissart recalled, had treated him well during his visit: ‘I am bound to pray to God for him, and sorry am I to write of his death, but as I have dictated and augmented this history to the utmost of my power it became necessary to mention it’. But, as he also remarked, ‘King Henry would never have been king ...if his cousin Richard had treated him in the friendly manner he ought to have done’7. Historians continue to debate the reasons for and circumstances of Richard II’s deposition. What is in no doubt, however, is that his usurper, Henry IV, remained in an insecure position for most, if not all, of his reign.
Froissart continues his narrative beyond the deposition of Richard II, telling us of the first abortive revolt by the earls of Huntingdon and Salisbury in January 1400, and of how its participants were executed. He then claims that Henry’s counsellors told the king that there would be no peace in the realm until Richard was dead, pointing out that ‘for so long as the French know he is alive, they will exert themselves to make war against you in the hope of putting him back onto the throne because he is married to the daughter of the king’8. Froissart skilfully avoids saying that Henry ordered the murder of Richard, simply reporting his death and burial, perhaps because he did not wish to fall foul of the new regime. But his wording highlights an important consideration facing Henry at this point. There was a risk of war with France, since the truce agreed between Charles and Richard, and the marriage which cemented it, had both been undermined by the change of dynasty. The French royal government never formally acknowledged Henry as king of England, referring to him throughout his reign as ‘Henry, so-called king of France’, much as the English from time to time challenged the Valois right to the French throne. There were early signs that the French would exploit the instability which the deposition of Richard had engendered, in order to attack English-held Calais and Gascony, the latter having already been thrown into turmoil by Richard’s unpopular decision to give the area to John of Gaunt. In response, less than a month into his reign, on 23 October 1399, Henry IV created his own son, Henry of Monmouth, duke of Aquitaine, planning to send him to the duchy with an English army. But he was not able to do so because of threats closer to home. The Scots, still in loose alliance with the French, took advantage of the disarray caused by Richard’s deposition to invade northern England, affronting the new king by addressing him as ‘duke of Lancaster’. Henry responded by invading Scotland with an army of around 13,000 men, an effective means of imposing and testing his authority within his own realm as well as within that of his northern neighbour, since such a military onslaught quickly brought the Scots to the negotiating table.
No sooner had the Scottish problem been solved than a new one erupted with the rebellion of Owen Glendower who declared himself prince of Wales on 16 September 1400, a move which also sought to take advantage of the disruption caused by the dynastic upheaval in England. That the English were unprepared for this is revealed by the ease with which the rebels took key fortifications. In this context it is not surprising that Henry made every effort to avoid war with France. Froissart did not realise how the continuing presence of Isabella in England tied French rather than English hands. She was the trump card in Henry’s hands. His initial threat, to marry her to his own son, Henry of Monmouth, was enough to force the French to renew the long truce. His delay in returning her to France, or to repay her dowry, forced them to go further in dealing with infringements of the truce. By the time she was returned to her father on 31 July 1401, Henry had avoided full war with France. But over the next few years a state of ‘cold war’ existed between the two nations. The French used every opportunity to harass Henry, but luck seemed to be on his side. In 1402 armed support was sent to the Scots. In February 1406 the heir to the Scottish throne was sent to France for his safety, but was captured by the English en route and imprisoned for the next 18 years. In July 1404 the French recognised Glendower as prince of Wales and came to an alliance with him against their common enemy, ‘Henry of Lancaster’, sending troops in the following year which enabled Glendower to take Harlech and hold a second Welsh parliament as well as to invade England as far as Worcester.
The position in England was also problematic. In the summer of 1403 Henry faced rebellion from his erstwhile friends and allies, the Percies, acting in alliance with supporters of a rival claimant to the English throne, Edmund, earl of March. This led to a major pitched battle at Shrewsbury on 21 July, the first time since the mid thirteenth century that an English king had been brought to engagement in a civil war. The king emerged victorious, but uncertainties over loyalties remained. In 1405 the earl of Northumberland and the Archbishop of York once more caused trouble, and Henry may have lost as much as he gained by having the archbishop executed. Such actions were always dangerous for kings, at least in the popular imagination. There were later rumours that the king had been struck down with leprosy in divine vengeance. That he ever had this disease is unlikely, but for the remainder of his reign he was not in the best of health. His swift and hardline actions of 1403 and 1405 put paid to any serious opposition to him in England, as the insignificance of the last Percy manifestation in 1408 shows. Yet Henry continued to have, as Ian Mortimer puts it, ‘fears’. He trusted no one. In 1406, he believed that his cousin Edward, duke of York, was disloyal. Similar fears prompted him to attempt to limit the English royal succession to the male line, since there were descendants of Edward III through the female line who otherwise had a better claim than the king himself. Towards the end of his life he became suspicious of the intentions of his own son.
For Henry IV there were too many problems all coming together. For instance, opposition in England was deliberately timed to coincide with the king’s intended campaigns into Wales, and thereby undermined English progress against Glendower. In 1406 the French escalated their attacks on English shipping and on Gascony, forcing the king to abandon his planned campaign in Wales, and to delegate authority there to his son, Prince Henry, about whom he already had misgivings. The military and naval costs of Henry’s reign were necessarily large, but were slow in bringing returns. Such a situation bred recurrent difficulties with parliament. It was not until 1410 that Wales was returned to royal control and Henry could feel secure in his realm. By contrast, this was the very point at which the kingdom of France began to implode.
Save for the English claim to the throne, France remained remarkably devoid of dynastic upheaval. Unlike Henry IV, Charles VI never faced any threats of deposition. That said, the problems of his reign arose from rivalries within the royal family which generated the rise of political factions. That this could happen was largely the result of the possibility of independent action on the part of the princes of the blood and the other dukes of France, whose large and cohesive land holdings gave them military potential much greater than that of their English counterparts. They were equally dependent, however, upon royal patronage. Therefore in a period of weak royal authority, such as that occasioned by Charles VI’s illness, they could and did contend for control of the government, action which culminated in the outbreak of civil war. But how did such a situation come about?
To understand what is an extremely complicated period of French politics, we must begin in 1392. On a very hot day in August of that year, Charles was with his army near Le Mans, intending to act against the duke of Brittany who had harboured an enemy of the king. The king, recovering from illness, had already been scared by a man who had tried to seize the reins of his horse, shouting ‘King, ride no further, but return, for you are betrayed’9. Full of fear, and over-heated, he lost complete control of his senses when his page let a lance fall on a helmet. The king thought he was under attack. He drew his sword and started to attack his own men in a most violent manner. Eventually his chamberlain got him to the ground and prised the sword from his grasp. By this point Charles was in a trance-like state, and did not recognise anyone. By October he seemed to have recovered, but then suffered another relapse in January 1393 at a costume ball (the Bal des Ardents) when his Wodehouse’s or wild man’s attire of animal skin covered with pitch and feathers caught fire. Thereafter, until his death in 1422, Charles suffered periodic bouts of mental instability, or what the governmental records euphemistically call the ‘absences’ of the king. The fact that the king recovered between his relapses meant that it was never necessary to establish a permanent regency. But it led to recurrent competition for control of his government and often also of his person. In the late fourteenth and early fifteenth century the main competitors were the king’s brother, Louis, duke of Orleans (1372-1407), and his uncle, Philip, duke of Burgundy (d. 1404). This contest between the princes of the blood coloured all of political and court life, and can be seen to be brewing in the last sections of the Chroniques. There was even popular suspicion that Orleans’ wife, Valentina Visconti, had caused the king’s illness through her necromancy10. As Froissart has the duchess of Orleans allegedly remark, ‘the duchess of Burgundy can never nor should ever come to the throne of France before me, because I am closer than she is. My husband is brother of the king. He could become king and I, queen. I do not know why she goes ahead to claim honour and leaves me in the rear’. This quotation reminds us that there was also fear that the king might die at any point. Control of the heir to the throne was therefore as important to Burgundy and Orleans as control of the king himself. This brought into the equation the queen, Isabeau of Bavaria. Her first son had died as a baby in 1386. The second, born six months before Charles’ first signs of insanity, only survived until 1401, leaving as heir the third son, Louis, born in January 1397. Burgundy was able to secure the Dauphin’s marriage to his granddaughter, Margaret, to the annoyance of Orleans. The latter regained some kudos by marrying his son Charles to Isabella, Richard II’s widow, after her return to France, although she died in childbirth in 1409.
The contest between the two ducal factions persisted after the death of Duke Philip of Burgundy in 1404, since his son, Duke John the Fearless, took up his father’s cause with a vengeance. The Orleans-Burgundy contest had a persistent effect on French foreign policy, although both were committed to undermining the English position. The dukes of Burgundy had a special interest in Anglo-French relations, since they held the county of Flanders, England’s principal trading partner. The English-held march of Calais bordered Flanders to the north and the dukes’ county of Artois to the south. There were therefore repeated fears of a Burgundian assault on Calais. As for Orleans, despite his support of Bolingbroke whilst in exile, the duke turned against Henry as king, and encouraged war against him in Gascony and at sea. It was under his influence that armed aid was sent to Glendower in 1404-5. In the autumn of 1406 Duke Louis invaded English-held Gascony in person, laying siege to the key fortress of Bourg which controlled the approaches to Bordeaux.
Maintaining a siege over the winter was never easy. His attempt to take Bourg failed, and he was forced to lift his siege on 14 January 1407. This marked the end of effective French penetration into Gascony. It also facilitated the thawing of Anglo-French relations enough to allow English envoys to come to Paris for the first time since 1400. A marriage between Prince Henry and one of Charles’ daughters was proposed, as well as a long truce. Neither materialised, but a system of repeated short truces was introduced for the areas surrounding Calais, Gascony and the sea. This remained in place for the rest of Charles VI’s reign. But it was another key event of 1407 which really took the pressure off Henry IV and the English, and which led eventually to civil war in France. This was the assassination in Paris of Duke Louis of Orleans on 23 November 1407. It was immediately clear that the man who had arranged the deed was Duke John of Burgundy, furious at the way Duke Louis had been controlling the royal government in the preceding months, and at his attempts to remove virtually all the Burgundians from the royal council. Given the popular support for Duke John in Paris and his sizeable military resources, Charles VI had little choice but to pardon the duke for the murder, which the latter had portrayed as being an act against tyranny. A public ceremony was performed on 9 March 1409 whereby Louis’ heir, Charles of Orleans, was forced to forgive Duke John of Burgundy, but it was only a matter of time before Charles sought revenge, aided by other nobles unhappy with Burgundian dominance of the government over recent years. On 15 April 1410, the dukes of Orleans, Brittany and Berry (the last-named Charles VI’s last surviving uncle), along with the counts of Alençon, Clermont and Armagnac, came to an alliance of mutual assistance known as the League of Gien after its place of sealing which lies 60 km to the east of Orleans. A series of marriages was simultaneously arranged between them, the most important being that of Duke Charles of Orleans to Bonne, daughter of Bernard count of Armagnac, a link which led in due course to the anti-Burgundian group being commonly called the ‘Armagnacs’. Being in control of the royal government, Duke John of Burgundy could easily portray the League as a revolt against the king. Charles VI therefore issued orders to ban it and to disband its armies. When the lords refused, he sent for the oriflamme, the sacred banner kept at Saint-Denis, announcing his intention to march to war himself.
Although the League of Gien caved in at the king’s approach and agreed a peace, the issues which had driven them to rebellion persisted, and in the following summer, 1411, full civil war erupted in France between them and Duke John of Burgundy, who still held control of the government. What is significant here is that both sides approached Henry IV for military aid. This is a useful reminder of the level of militarisation in England at this point, in the wake of the Welsh wars, and of the permanent state of defensiveness against internal threats as well as possible French assaults on Calais and Gascony, and at sea. It cannot be a coincidence that the first English translation of the influential military treatise, Vegetius’ De Re militari, was made in 1408. Wales had been the training ground for many who were to serve the French in 1411-12 as well as in the invasions launched by Henry V. More significantly, it, along with the battle of Shrewsbury, had offered a formidable military apprenticeship for Prince Henry himself. In May 1410, faced with the illness of his father, the prince had taken control of the royal council in England. It was he therefore who authorised the crossing of between one and two thousand troops to assist John the Fearless, and hence the French crown. But when his father recovered his health in November 1411, he chose instead to negotiate with the Armagnacs, who offered restitution to the English of all the territories in the treaty of 1360. In May 1412 the treaty of London was agreed, by which Henry IV agreed to assist the Armagnacs with 1,000 men-at-arms and 3,000 archers. This army departed in August under Thomas, duke of Clarence, the king’s second son.
By the time Clarence landed, the Armagnacs had made peace with Duke John and Charles VI. Nonetheless, French divisions had been made clear to the English. In this context it is not surprising that Henry V, who succeeded his father in March 1413, should have been eager to exploit them further by diplomatic as well as military means. In the first year of his reign there was a dramatic turn in French politics. Duke John fell from grace as a result of his implication in a popular revolt in Paris in the summer of 1413 (the Cabochien revolt). It was now the turn of the Armagnacs to control the French government and king, and to overturn the pardon which John the Fearless had received for the murder of Duke Louis of Orleans, thereby declaring John a traitor and rebel. Henry sent an embassy to Charles VI in the spring of 1414 with high demands for a territorial settlement and a marriage to the French king’s last unmarried daughter, Catherine, knowing that the Armagnac lords had already been prepared to make concessions to his father. But he also thought it wise to send envoys to Burgundy with the prospect of a military cooperation. On 2 April 1414 Charles VI once more took the oriflamme, this time to wage war on the duke of Burgundy. This war continued over the summer against the duke’s towns in Artois and Picardy, until a tentative peace was reached in September. Henry kept up the diplomatic pressure into the New Year of 1415, but had already declared to the parliament in November 1414 his intention to invade France. As the chancellor explained, the king ‘understands that a suitable time has now come for him to accomplish his purpose with the aid of God’11. He added that the king knew that the realm of England was now itself blessed with peace and tranquillity, and that he had considered the truth of his quarrel with France, which were together ‘the most necessary things for each prince who has to make war on his enemies abroad’.
Henry was indeed encouraged by what he knew of French divisions. Even though by the time of his invasion the Burgundians and Armagnacs had made peace, he was in the summer of 1415 invading a country which had only recently been at war within itself, and in which there was lingering mistrust between the princes of the blood, fanned by the continuing problem of a king who was from time to time ‘absent’. But Henry was also motivated by the legacy of his father’s usurpation. Just as Henry IV chose to prove himself and test his authority through a major campaign against the Scots in 1400, so Henry V emulated this with his plans for an almost equally large invasion of France in 1415. The army which he engaged was at least 12,000 strong and indented to serve for twelve months, evidence of a plan for conquest. But it took too long to take the bridgehead at Harfleur. With the campaign in some disarray, Henry decided to withdraw via Calais. Intercepted en route, he was brought to battle at Agincourt, but the French, disrupted and weakened by anxieties and mutual suspicions, proved less of a challenge than he had anticipated.
It is important to remember just how much Henry’s position, and that of his dynasty in general, was fortified by the victory at Agincourt. His accession had triggered a renewal of anxieties over the Lancastrian usurpation in 1399, enough to prompt Henry to rebury Richard II in Westminster Abbey both as proof of his death (pretenders had emerged in Scotland) and as an act of conciliation. In France it was rumoured that there were Englishmen saying shortly after Henry’s accession that the crown should belong to the earl of March and not him. Henry faced a rebellion of Lollards in January 1414 which aimed to kill the king and his brothers. Even more significantly, a group of nobles including his cousin, the earl of Cambridge, planned to kill the king on 1 August 1415, the day he had assigned for his embarkation for France, and to replace him by the earl of March. Henry’s reopening of war with France, which had been officially dormant since the last decade of Richard II’s reign, was inextricably linked with political developments in both France and England since 1400. Would that Froissart had been in a position to continue his Chroniques beyond 1400. He would certainly have had plenty to write about.
Suggestions for Further ReadingChristopher Allmand, Henry V, 2nd edition, Yale English Monarchs (New Haven — London: Yale University Press, 1997) Anne Curry, Agincourt: A New History (Stroud: Tempus Publishing, 2005) Anne Curry, The Hundred Years War 1337–1453, Osprey Essential Histories (: Osprey Publishing, 2002) Anne Curry, The Hundred Years War, 2nd edn (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2003) R. Famiglietti, Royal Intrigue: Crisis at the Court of Charles VI, 1392–1420 (New York: AMS Press, 1986) Gerald Harriss, Shaping the Nation: England 1360–1461, The New Oxford History of England (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005) Ian Mortimer, The Fears of Henry IV: The Life of England’s Self-Made King (London: Jonathan Cape, 2007) Nigel Saul, Richard II (New Haven / London: Yale University Press, 1997)
Notes1 As it was called in the parliament of October 1416: Chris Given-Wilson, ed., Parliament Rolls of Medieval England, 1275–1504, 16 vols (Woodbridge / London: Boydell Press / National Archives, 2005), vol. IX. Henry V 1413-1422, ed. C. Given-Wilson (Woodbridge, 2005), p. 177.
2 L. Douët-d’Arcq, ed., La Chronique d’Enguerran de Monstrelet, 6 vols (Paris: Renouard, 1857), vol. 1, p. 5.
3 Chronicles of England, France, Spain and the adjoining countries, by Sir John Froissart, translated by Thomas Johnes, 2 vols (London, 1874), vol. 2, p. 709.
4 Chronicles of England, France, Spain and the adjoining countries, by Sir John Froissart, translated by Thomas Johnes, 2 vols (London, 1874), vol. 2, p. 708.
5 Chronicles of England, France, Spain and the adjoining countries, by Sir John Froissart, translated by Thomas Johnes, 2 vols (London, 1874), vol. 2, p. 619.
6 Chronicles of England, France, Spain and the adjoining countries, by Sir John Froissart, translated by Thomas Johnes, 2 vols (London, 1874), vol. 2, p. 568.
7 Chronicles of England, France, Spain and the adjoining countries, by Sir John Froissart, translated by Thomas Johnes, 2 vols (London, 1874), vol. 2, p. 709.
8 Chronicles of England, France, Spain and the adjoining countries, by Sir John Froissart, translated by Thomas Johnes, 2 vols (London, 1874), vol. 2, p. 708.
9 Chronicles of England, France, Spain and the adjoining countries, by Sir John Froissart, translated by Thomas Johnes, 2 vols (London, 1874), vol. 2, pp. 533-4.
10 Chronicles of England, France, Spain and the adjoining countries, by Sir John Froissart, translated by Thomas Johnes, 2 vols (London, 1874), vol. 2, p. 633.
11 Parliament Rolls of Medieval England, vol. IX, pp. 66-7.